


This Time

by catsmeow79



Category: UnREAL (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Feelings, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:21:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26432563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catsmeow79/pseuds/catsmeow79
Summary: A/N: Okay, so I realize that I'm more than fashionably late to the UnREAL party, but I'm a little surprised more folks weren't on the Rachel / Jeremy train.  Perhaps my love of Cutter Wentworth clouds my judgment in this area?In any event, I'm a sucker for a happy (ish) ending, so I wrote them one.  This takes place after Season 2 wraps and after Coleman and Yael have died.Kindly forget Season 3.
Relationships: Jeremy Caner/Rachel Goldberg
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

This Time

Rachael is alone.

Jeremy had gone first, then Chet and finally Quinn, leaving Rachael alone on the set of Everlasting once again, the same way she found herself at the end of every season, at the end of every day. Rachel doesn’t have a home to go to like the others, nor a family. She walks across the lot slowly, making her way back to the lighting truck, back to her make-shift bunk. She hasn’t really formulated a plan for hiatus yet.

He is waiting for her when she arrives.

Jeremy.

Not inside the truck, like he knows that he shouldn’t be here, not after what he’s done. Instead, Jeremy is sitting on the outer steps waiting for her to invite him inside, waiting for permission. Rachel tries to ignore the way her pulse quickens at the sight of him, tries to remember that she hates him now.

Rachel walks past him with feigned indifference, up the stairs and inside the truck. She stops beside her “bed”, begins to collect her things. Jeremy has risen and is standing now, just beyond the threshold, the late afternoon sun shining brilliantly behind him. Jeremy rocks slightly from side to side, foot to foot as he studies her. Rachael can see his left hand tremor, and wonders if he is starting to truly sober for the first time in months? Or perhaps the gravity of the day’s events is beginning to sink-in, the weight of what they’ve done together hitting him?

Better not to give that particular avenue too much consideration. Rachel turns swiftly to the shelf across from her bunk, the one she’d been using as a “dresser”, and shoves her charger, her toothpaste, her hair brush, carelessly into the knapsack where she’s just packed her dirty underwear and her bed sheet. She tries in vain to ignore him, makes herself busy packing, but that pretense will soon disappear as she literally runs out of belongings.

Finally, unable to hide any longer, she looks toward the door and meets Jeremy’s gaze, holds it for a moment and then nods. He steps inside, barely through the doorway and pauses just inside, like he’s afraid to stand too close to her. And maybe he is, Rachel wouldn’t blame him. She’s broken his heart and his nose, and she’s driven him to murder. And that was only _this_ year.

Rachel drops gracelessly to her knees, collects a pair of shoes, some dirty jeans, a few socks, and crams them into her fully-stuffed backpack. She’s watching him out of the corner of her eye, watching him as he watches her. She’s never been good at real, never any good at genuine or honest, and understands that’s where he’ll steer them. It’s as if she’s standing on a precipice before the plunge, she can feel his heat, knows it’s coming but not actually what he will say. Finally he speaks. 

“ _How could you_?” Jeremy asks angrily, his fists clenched at his side.

Rachel wonders how he can have the energy left for anger after the events of today. “ _How could she **what**_?” she wonders to herself.

_How could she crash a stolen car and disappear for six months after the first time Jeremy told her he loved her_?

_How could she fuck Adam two hours after Jeremy had left his fiancée to be with her_?

_How could she run away with a prince in the middle of the night when all Jeremy wanted to do was give her a place to call home_?

_How could she manipulate him into killing two people_?

Her silence drags on too long, and Jeremy refuses to let it lay. “ _How_ _could you tell **him** about your mother’s patient_?” he asks, and she sees now that it isn’t anger after all - it is hurt, it is betrayal.

Of everything she’d thought that he might say, might ask, this hadn’t cracked her top ten and Rachel is stunned speechless. How does he always manage to surprise her, knock her off balance in a way no one else can? She stands back up, sets her bag on the bunk. “ _Jeremy_ . . .” she starts, not even certain where she is going, but he stops her, interrupts.

“ _You and I have known each other for 16 seasons, and he was a stranger_ ” he says, and the simple way that he links them together as a unit pulls at her heart.

He says it like a law of nature or an indisputable fact “you and I” and Rachel feels a tug in her gut that she can’t quite explain, an untwisting.

“ _He_ _was using you, and using this place as a stepping stone_ ” he continues.

His face is red and his voice is loud, but Jeremy is sober. He’s Jeremy again, and Rachel doesn’t fear him now. Even as he slams his hand against the wall for punctuation, even as his accusing and heartbroken eyes bore into hers, making her feel his pain.

“ _I **love** you_” he professes brokenly.

God she’s a monster. Rachel knows that she is, even if Adam and Quinn and Jeremy deny it. She’s destroyed him. She knew that she would eventually, and even that knowledge didn’t stop her from doing it. She saw it coming in her mind’s eye and she didn’t turn him loose, didn’t send him away before it happened. Rachel has always known that she wasn’t capable of what he wanted from her, but she liked that Jeremy believed she was.

“ _Goddamnit, how could you tell **him**_?” he asks again, swiping a nearby lighting fixture off the shelf, causing it to skitter through the open door and crash against the pavement outside with a satisfying crash.

Rachel flinches visibly but it isn’t Jeremy’s display of temper, it isn’t the light. It’s the answer to his question, a truth that she didn’t recognize herself until the moment he asked the question out loud.

Jeremy notices her response but misreads the reason for it. Taking a step backward, giving her more physical space, he raises his hands palms outward, a gesture of peace

“ _How could you tell **him** and not me_?” he whispers and the betrayal shines so brightly, so acutely behind his eyes that it feels like he’s stabbing her.

Rachel finds herself wanting to confess all her secrets to him, just this once. She wants to say that if she _could_ have been a real person she would have done it for him, only for him. She sits down on her bunk, the strength to fight the truth completely leaving her body, leaving her cold and empty. She doesn’t have the energy to pretend anymore.

Jeremy is standing there waiting for her, like he has done as long as she has known him. And he looks so totally wrecked in this moment that Rachel does something reckless herself, something impulsive, even for her. Rachel does something where she can’t predict the outcome . . .

**This time, she tells Jeremy the truth**.

Rachel takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and then she jumps “ _I told Coleman **because** he was a stranger_” she confesses.

It takes an effort, but she raises her head to meet Jeremy’s eyes even though it burns like standing naked in front of the sun right now.

He’s studying her, listening intently to her words, but he doesn’t yet hear her. She could still turn back if she chooses, spin this another way, produce Jeremy in a different direction. But she has already begun down this path, and in this moment she’s just so tired of playing pretend all the time.

So, she stays the course “ _Coleman could never have mattered_ ” Rachel explains, her hands twisting nervously together on her lap.

**“ _He_** _didn’t mean anything to me_ ” she continues, her gaze faltering momentarily under the intense focus on Jeremy’s face as he listens.

“ _If **he’d** thought that I was too broken once he knew_ . . .” she trails off, slipping her hands inside her jacket pockets trying desperately to stop fidgeting.

Unspent adrenaline is coursing across every nerve ending, making her nauseous, causing her whole body to tremble. Rachel can hardly bare to look at Jeremy while she speaks, but she manages through sheer force of will “ _If **he’d** looked at me differently afterward . . . it would never have mattered_”

She’s watching him, and so she sees it - the precise moment when Jeremy understands what she is actually saying. The tapestry of emotions that play across his face, behind his eyes in only a split-second take her breath away, their raw intensity making Rachel feel like she’s been punched in the solar plexus.

She sees comprehension, relief, understanding, sorrow, hope, and love all so vivid in only an instant that the fierceness overwhelms her and she can’t bear to see any more. Her eyes drop to the ground, they memorize the various stains lining the floor of the truck after years of commercial use.

There is complete and utter silence, and Rachel is sure that they’ve both stopped breathing, that the world has literally stopped turning. It’s only been a fraction of a second, one that felt like an eternity but she can’t stand the edge of the knife any longer so she raises her eyes to meet his.

Jeremy’s gone very still, very quiet, he’s frozen in place beside the door. She was wrong about the breathing though, his chest is rising and falling rapidly as if he‘s run a marathon. Rachel realizes now that she never should have invited him inside, she won’t be able to leave now without walking past him.

Rachel tries to be brave, tries to soldier on. There is nothing for either of them if they go down this road again, and he’s looking at her with such devotion again that it makes her physically ache. She picks up her bag, slings it over her shoulder with a casualness that she doesn’t currently feel.

“ _You asked me why, that’s why_ ” she reminds him matter-of-factly, trying for cold and detached “ _It doesn’t change anything now_ ”. She truly hadn’t thought this through before she opened this particular can of worms. Then again, maybe she had. She’d always liked playing with fire, seeing how close she could get to the flame before it scorched her.

“ _Jesus, Rach_ ” he starts, taking a step toward her.

Instinctively she backs away and Jeremy lets her go, doesn’t try to follow. Rachel wants to scream, she wants to cry, she wants to let him hold her and rock her until she sleeps. She wants to crawl on top of him, inside his skin, as close as she can be to the only place where she’s ever felt safe in the entire world. She knows they can’t try again, he’ll only get hurt. They’ll **both** only get hurt.

Rachel knows the truth, the missing piece of the puzzle that Dr. Wagerstein could never quite figure – why Jeremy was her trigger, why he destabilized her. It was because he made her feel like a real person, let her believe she _could_ be one, and not merely the disaster her mother and her childhood had made her into.

Jeremy tries again “ _Rachel, **everyone** is broken_” he promises, rubbing his chin, trying to find the right words when his skill has always been with pictures “ _It’s just about finding where the pieces fit best_ ”.

Well, shit.

Her backpack slides off her shoulder and hits the floor with a thump that races along the floor and climbs the metal walls, reverberating through the enclosed space. And that was the sound of any sense she had left completely leaving her body.

“ _Come here_ ” Jeremy says so quietly that she almost doesn’t hear him above the pounding of her own blood rushing through her veins.

“ _Rach_ . . .” he implores her, his voice breaking on her name in that sexy raspy way she has always loved.

**This time, Rachel makes the first move**.

.

.

.

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now for the happy-ish ending

**This time, she makes the first move.**

.

.

.

Rachel is across the truck in three strides, leaping into his waiting arms, her mouth latching onto his desperately. She had thought that they were going to jail. They’d killed Mary, the show was over, and everything she’d built was over . . . and then Jeremy had saved her. She practically vibrates with the release of adrenaline that had been coursing through her body, all flooding out now that the danger has passed. 

Rachel pulls him closer, her hands scrabbling at his neck fusing his lips to hers trying to climb inside him. She kisses Jeremy frantically - his mouth, his cheeks, his neck. She licks the sweat off his skin, he tastes like a brewery, and she does it again and again reveling in the contact high. He’s moving too slowly, kissing her softly, gently, keeping his hands above the surface. So she bites him, at the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder, hard enough to make him groan, hard enough that his knees buckle and they drop to the floor together.

**This time, Jeremy doesn’t pin her to the floor**.

He doesn’t hold her hands above her head like she’s taught him, like she wants him to. Instead he hovers above her, his body barely touching, barely pressing, his fingers unbuttoning her jacket, carefully peeling it off her shoulders, placing it under her head like a pillow. Rachel reaches for his belt, but Jeremy pushes her hands aside, runs his own hand under her shirt across her belly, just lets it set there warm, steady, pressing into her skin. 

Rachel’s getting antsy, he’s taking too long, so she tries again to reach for his buckle, this time he grabs both her wrists in his hand, the one that isn’t currently drawing figure eights across her stomach, and places her hands above her head. 

Finally.

But he doesn’t hold them there, doesn’t pin her in place bodily. “ _Stay_ ” he commands and Rachel’s never heard his voice sound like that, and she can feel the tendrils of heat coiling low in her belly begin to expand.

Jeremy slides her t-shirt up and over her head, bends to run his lips across her bare belly, his whiskers caressing her flesh sending small bolts of electricity skittering across the surface of her skin. On his way back down his hands linger on her breasts massaging them over her bra, and she feels the sparks ignite and continue to spread, working their way outward.

Rachel reaches down to card her fingers through his hair, its way too long now, unruly, and she pulls at the untidy edges, pulls him upward to kiss her mouth and he acquiesces willingly, lets her teeth scrape his lips, her tongue plunder his mouth. She rocks her hips against his thigh, encouraging him wordlessly to move this along. Her fingers leave his neck and trail down his back, grabbing his ass before they move around front and reach for his waistband once again.

“ _Easy_ ” Jeremy warns, weaving his fingers through hers, placing them gently on the floor above her head once more. Then his own hands are stroking her tits again, removing her bra and tossing it aside before leaning down to pepper kisses across her chest.

His beard tickles as he works and liquid heat spreads like lava from her core moving slowly but consuming everything in its path, and Rachel can’t help but rock her hips involuntarily. Jeremy uses his teeth, just the tiniest pressure as he tugs a nipple into his mouth, suckles, and now she’s the one moaning.

Rachel thrashes beneath him, but this time keeps her hands to herself leaving them in place above her head. Jeremy’s mouth never leaves her breasts, but he uses her momentary distraction to pull her jeans and panties off in a smooth practiced motion before she can even process their loss.

God he’s good at this she thinks, her body tingling with pleasure. Rachel remembers now what it was like when they first got together, how he’d managed something very few people had ever accomplished – Jeremy Caner had surprised her. 

They had been on location during a home town visit and they’d had a truly shitty day. One of the girls’ moms was dying of cancer and her daughter didn’t know about it. The mother didn’t want her daughter to know, didn’t want to ruin the fairytale or cause her daughter to miss her chance at true love on her account. The girl was never honestly going to win, but Quinn wanted her on the show for at least another week or two. 

Rachel couldn’t do it, the girls’ mom might not _have_ another week or two. She’d produced the hell out of that episode - - manipulated the mother into confessing to her daughter on-camera for the viewing audience, manipulated the suitor into sending the girl home early and manipulated Quinn into thinking Rachel was a genius who only had the show’s ratings gold in mind when she set all the pieces into motion.

After shooting, the crew had gone line dancing to get an authentic Texas experience before heading back to L.A. in the morning. Rachel had actually worn a dress, and Quinn had actually not been a complete bitch for five consecutive minutes, so they were two for two on miracles that evening. 

Rachel had been buzzing – the adrenaline of live TV, of playing god, of winning, when Jeremy had found her alone on the porch gazing up at the stars and wondering what it might be like to have a mother you wished _wouldn’t_ die. 

Jeremy had looked at her in wonder, like she’d hung the moon just for him. He had punched her shoulder jovially and told her that she’d done a good thing. She’d leaned into him, friendly, collegiate . . . at first. Then, he’d kissed her – slow, sweet, careful. Rachel had been surprised, slow to react, slow to stop him. She **hadn’t** tried to stop him, and then Jeremy had dropped to his knees on the back porch of the Dodge City Saloon in Willow City Texas, put his head under her skirt, and completely blown her mind. 

Rachel had assumed it would be a one-off. Merely the explosion of pent-up sexual tension, the culmination of fifteen stressful seasons, but then he did it the next time they were together too. Jeremy laid her out on the mattress in his half-finished log cabin in the woods, his face between her legs, his fingers inside her and his eyes fixed on her. 

Jeremy’s eyes were always watching her, worshipping her. When he fucked her it was slow, intimate, his gaze locked on hers as if there was something just beyond his view, that if he focused harder, peered deeper, he would finally see it. He would have happily stayed inside her for hours if she’d let him, always wanting more - - physically, emotionally, trying to connect with her, go deeper. He had told her about every childhood boo-boo and family secret, and he’d wanted to know all of hers. 

She should have run then. If she had, she could have saved him.

After that, Rachel had stopped letting him take her that way. It made her feel exposed, vulnerable. She couldn’t breathe when he looked at her that way - - it was terrifying, a paralyzing fear threatening to consume her. Rachel had produced him into safer territory, showed him how she liked it - - quick and fast like a summer thunderstorm, completely drenching but over in a matter of moments with no lasting impact. 

She had taught Jeremy how to get her off without touching her anywhere that mattered – needy and frantic, on any available flat surface, usually mostly clothed. She enjoyed the way she could make him desperate for her, make him forget his grand plans for seduction or romance, steer him into taking her in the camera truck after wrap when any of the other guys could walk in, on a desk in the production office, in the pool house after hours - it was powerful, addicting. If only she’d realized then that she was falling too.

He proposed to her in Mexico.

That time she _did_ run, but it was already too late for the both of them.

Jeremy pinches one nipple as he suckles at her other, and the sharpness of the arousal it elicits snaps Rachel back to the present. In the present, she’s completely naked and Jeremy’s still wearing all of his clothes, even the oversized outer jacket that smells of cigarettes, booze, and bad decisions.

It strikes her that this is an apt metaphor for their entire relationship - - except, now their roles are reversed and she’s the one who’s naked. All he ever did was love her, give everything she ever asked of him (and some things that she didn’t) and she’s completely destroyed him. He’ll never be clean again, and she is the one who did that to him. Nothing she does from this moment onward can truly mend what she’s ruined, and the thought makes her blood run cold.

Jeremy’s lips are traveling again. Leaving her breasts and moving downward, whiskers grazing her rib cage, causing her to gasp – he did that on purpose, the small twinkle in his eye tells her that he knew her mind was wandering. 

Jeremy really does see more than she thinks Rachel realizes, deserves more credit for understanding her than she ever gave him. He deserves more _everything_ than she ever gave him, frankly. They both know that it doesn’t matter now, that what she’s broken can’t actually be repaired. But maybe there’s a balance to be struck, maybe this one time if she lets him have things his way, lets him produce her?

“ _Your pieces fit with me, Rach_ ” he whispers against her midriff, placing open-mouth kisses along the surface of her skin.

Rachel considers.

His lips have paused their journey south, his chin is resting on her navel, and he’s watching her, giving her the opportunity to redirect him, steer him back to safer shores as she’s done in the past. 

Rachel knows she was never capable of giving him want he wanted, what he needed from her, but she _was_ selfish enough to pretend that she could, to lie to both of them about it for all those months. Now it hardly matters, what could he possibly see? What _more_ is there? What could be uglier than everything that he already knows?

Rachel’s fingers find their way down to his face, stroke gently at his cheek. She looks at him fondly, her eyes locking with his, holding his gaze. She sees everything wrong that she’s ever done in her life when she looks at him, and also the one or two things that she’s actually done right.

In another time and another place, if they were meeting today for the first time . . . the thought makes her want to cry, she sees unshed tears behind his eyes as well.

**This time, she lets _him_ produce _her_**.

“ _Don’t stop_ ” she whispers, her fingers moving to massage his scalp gently, guiding him downward.

Jeremy slides the last few inches and his face is between her legs, his warm breath tickling, teasing for only a moment before he kisses her, his tongue lapping against her and Rachel arches off the floor with the intensity of it. Jeremy’s hands move to her waist, steadying her, holding her in place as he uses his mouth to worship her. Holds her open for him as he pushes his tongue inside her, then pulls back, barely ghosting over her clit as he licks up and down, over and over.

“ _Oh my god_ ” Rachel gasps her hips stuttering involuntarily trying to arch into and away from the pleasure of his touch simultaneously. 

She’s dizzy with the sensation, the room (truck) seeming to spin sideways on its axis everything around her growing fuzzy, warmth suffusing her entire being. 

“ _Oh my god_ ” she says again because the ability to form novel words has completely left her, the edges of reality blurring pleasantly around her.

Jeremy risks moving a hand, holds her hips in place with just the one now and slides his fingers inside her. He crooks them just-so as he sucks her clit into his mouth and then she’s coming with a sudden jolt, the ferocity of it surprising her.

“ _Jesus fuck_ ” she pants, gasping for air.

Jeremy strokes her soothingly as she comes down, his fingertips drawing patterns on her belly again, his cheek nuzzling against her thigh gently. Her lids are heavy when she looks down at him. 

**This time, she’s the one who says it “ _Come here_ ”. **

He obeys without hesitation, sliding up her body and she’s pulling him to her lips for a kiss – slow and sensual this time, less desperate and needy. She tastes herself on his mouth, moans into him.

This time, when her hands move to his buckle he doesn’t stop her, lets her reach inside, stroke him. 

He slips his jacket off, maneuvers it beneath her on the metal floor, lays her back down on the padding and moves to rest on top of her. He’s kissing her lips again, languid, savoring. She works him with her hand, steady sure strokes and his body is sluggish, slower to harden under her touch than it used to be. Too much liquor for too long dulling his response, but in this moment it feels exactly perfect this way - slow, endless. Jeremy kisses her over and over with devotion.

**This time, she doesn’t want it to end too quickly**.

He feels good on top of her like this. It’s different than before – he’s softer, fewer edges, heavier and more solid now, and Rachel allows herself to think it could actually be real this time. Her hands reach upward, slip beneath his worn flannel shirt and under the Henley that he always wears, runs her fingertips across the sensitive skin of his belly, making him shiver. He takes the hint, pulling his lips from hers for only moment to pull both shirts off. 

Rachel runs her fingers across his chest, down his back, she uses her nails to torment his ticklish sides. She feels him smile against her lips, feels him chuckle a little, and the vibration travels through his chest and down into hers, spreading warmth through her bones. 

Rachel slides her hands down his back, hooks her thumbs into his waist band and slides his jeans down over his ass, off just enough so that she can touch him properly. And she does, wraps her hand around him again, guides him inside her and they gasp in unison at the sensation. She can feel her body pulse around him, her internal muscles clenching, pulling him deeper, welcoming him home. Jeremy looks into her eyes as they couple.

**This time, she doesn’t look away**.

Rachel meets his gaze and holds it as he begins to move, taking her slowly, sliding all the way in and back out again setting an unhurried pace as if their world hasn’t already burned to the ground around them outside the truck. His hand cradles her head, cushioning it from the cold metal floor, turning it upward so her eyes meet his. 

It’s possible that they’re like that for hours, Rachel feels time slip away, she feels herself slip away, start to float above her body and look down on them, she’s trembling again already, her body quaking from the intimacy, her heart pounding, butterflies fluttering in her belly, and she doesn’t know how much more she can handle. She’s not equipped for this, and she lets her eyes fall closed, escaping from the sensation of him searing into her soul. 

“ _Please_ ” Jeremy whispers above her, running his fingers across her brows.

With great effort, she manages to open her eyes, stare back up at him again. It’s like staring directly into the sun. She had thought the prospect of happiness was terrifying, that was nothing compared to whatever this is, the prospect that _this_ might never end or that it will end. Rachel is burning up, all her nerve endings firing at once and her skin feels too tight across her bones.

Jeremy slides one hand beneath her, tilts her hips, changes the angle just slightly and now he’s hitting her just-so with every thrust. “ _Oh my GOD_ ” she exalts, and for someone with a creative writing degree from Vassar she is not used to repeating herself so frequently.

Rachel has never been one for orgasmic declarations . . . or names for that matter, not in bed. She’d never wanted it to feel too personal with any of her lovers, usually settling for a general “god that was good, babe” when words seemed to be expected, but much preferring a satisfied sigh when words didn’t appear to be necessary.

It’s intense when she comes this time, merciless, like waves at the beach crashing against her again and again, pulling her beneath the sea over and over before she can regain the breath the first crest had stolen from her. She tries to keep her eyes locked with is, knows that’s what he wants from her, but they slip close, rolling back into her head as her body thrashes beneath him with the force of her crescendo. 

**This time when she flies, she screams his name**.

Rachel has no idea how much time has passed, it could have been hours or days, she’s not certain that she didn’t actually pass out. When she does open her eyes, Jeremy is looking down at her, stroking her cheek with his fingers, adoration plain on his face. He kisses her again and again and she has to force herself not to close her eyes again, hide from the vulnerability she sees in him, feels seeping uncharacteristically into herself.

“ _Hey_ ” he whispers, and he looks younger and more innocent in this moment than she’s ever seen him.

“ _Hey_ ” she answers, meeting his gaze hesitantly, determined not to break this.

He’s still inside her, patiently waiting for her to come back to him. Rachel smiles a little at the realization, the perfect metaphor for their entire relationship really. Jeremy groans when her muscles squeeze him involuntarily as her body ripples with after-shocks. Rachel shifts just a bit, rolls her hips experimentally, feels the way all her over-sensitized nerve endings spark immediately back to life at the motion.

“ _You good_?” he asks his forehead pressed to hers.

“ _Mmmm_ ” she confirms, kissing him sweetly, carding her fingers through his hair “ _Really good_ ”

Jeremy begins again, slow, careful as he thrusts in and out. Rachel hitches her legs around his waist, slides them higher up his back, taking him deeper with each thrust. He’s shaking with the exertion, his body trembling above her and in her. She kisses him everywhere she can reach, licks his neck below his ear beside his jaw, the pressure point that has always driven him wild. His gasps audibly and his rhythm falters before he regains it. 

Jeremy’s hand comes down between her legs, his fingers rubbing her clit. He’s close, she can feel it in the way he quivers, knows it when he works her bundle of nerves, tries to take her with him into the abyss. 

Rachel makes another impulsive decision, even more reckless than the first - - says something that she’s never said to him, barely let _him_ say to _her_ , and even then, only responded with a “me too”.

**This time she says it first, spells it out for him**.

“ _I love you_ ” 

She whispers it into his ear as she bites down on his neck, and Jeremy is coming with a strangled gasp, his hips losing their rhythm entirely, stuttering and out of control as he empties inside her, the satisfying warmth of his climax triggering her own once more. This one rolls over her softly, endlessly, with no edge, no bite, only a sweetness that she’s never known.

Jeremy collapses on top of her, his weight tethering her to the earth when the choir of angels currently singing in her mind threatens to carry her away. Rachel wraps her arms around him, strokes his back in soothing circular motions. He’s crying now, and she can feel the tears fall against her skin, warm and wet. She pulls him closer, coos softly, whispers sweet nothings into his ear. 

He’s crushing her but Rachel can’t bring herself to care. Besides, it’s nice to have a physical excuse for the inability to breathe, a plausible alternative to the emotional one that she isn’t yet ready to contemplate. When his body stops shuddering, Jeremy pulls away, rolls off of her and collapses onto his back beside her on the cold steel floor leaving her nestled on the padding of his jacket. 

She had trained him to do that too, she observes with regret. Rachel has never been much of a cuddler, always wanted her own space both physically and emotionally, taught him to give it to her. His chest is still heaving with the effort to catch his breath and his cheeks shine with dampness. In this moment, she feels the loss of his physical nearness acutely. Rachel reaches for Jeremy’s discarded flannel shirt, wrapping herself in it to cover the goose flesh that has begun to chill her skin. 

Without conscious thought, she scoots over to close the distance between them and burrows into him. Rachel presses to his side, laying her head on his chest, hand resting over his heart and she can feel its thundering beat beneath her fingertips. Jeremy says nothing, kissing the top of her head, placing his arm around her shoulder to pull her closer, to hold her secure. 

Hours later Rachel wakes in the darkness, Jeremy’s arms wrapped tightly around her as he snores beside her. 

“ _I still don’t deserve you_” she thinks as she watches him sleep.

**This time, she stays**.

.

.

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fin


End file.
